


Mishaps and the Multiverse

by DayenuRose



Category: Spider-Gwen (Comics), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Crime Fighting, Explanations, Friendship, Gen, High School, Multiverse, References to Canonical Death, Spider-sense, Theories, mentions of many Spider-people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-09-25 07:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: When Peter's spider-sense goes off while he's at school, he receives a text from Tony telling him to stay put. The suspense is killing him until he can discover the reason why his spider-sense is going off. He's in for quite the surprise.





	1. By the Pricking of my Thumbs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angel_gidget](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_gidget/gifts).



His spider sense tingled. Not in the way that foretold danger. More like a tickle in the back of your throat or a tingling sensation from the moment before a static shock. Before Peter could concoct an excuse to explain another sudden and inexplicable absence from school, his phone buzzed. 

Class had just started and Dr. Hayes was a stickler when it came to the rules concerning phones in class. If the teacher so much as spied a phone out in the open, he’d confiscate it for the rest of the week—and it was only Tuesday. 

His phone buzzed again. Risking a peek, Peter slid his phone half out of his pocket and glanced as the text flashed across the screen. He almost dared a second glance when he noticed the messages were from Mr. Stark. Not Mr. Happy. Not Ms. Potts. Not Aunt May. No, Mr. Stark himself! 

Mr. Stark: STAY AT SCHOOL! 

Mr. Stark: Not an emergency. 

As if sensing the presence of a contraband phone in his classroom, Dr. Hayes turned his gaze on Peter. The teen jammed his hand in his pocket over his phone like it had always been there. Dr. Hayes’ all seeing gaze lingered for a moment longer and Peter just wanted to curl up and disappear. He wondered if it was possible for his teacher to have superpowers or something. After a long moment that felt like an eternity, Dr. Hayes turned away from Peter and addressed the class. Though he knew he should be listening, Peter couldn’t focus on something as mundane as English class.  

Slouching in his chair, Peter stared out the window. He hoped to see something—anything—to explain why his spider sense had gone off. The day remained sunny and cloudless. The skyline remained clear. All in all, it appeared to be a perfect day. 

How had Mr. Stark known he was considering cutting school if there wasn’t an emergency? It wasn’t fair. Something was going on and he was stuck in school. Luckily it was eighth hour and he only needed to endure forty-five minutes more of this prolonged torture before he could find out what was happening. If Mr. Stark thought he was protecting Peter by telling him to stay....

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.” 

Nearly jumping out of his skin, it took Peter a moment before he realized that it was only Dr. Hayes reciting something from today’s reading. The teacher towered over Peter and tapped a finger on the teen’s unopened copy of _Macbeth._

When several of his classmates laughed at Peter being caught, Dr. Hayes turned his glare on the rest of the class, lingering a moment longer on those who had laughed. More than one set of jaws clacked shut. Flash glanced away and cringed under Dr. Hayes’ critical stare, even though his laughter had been the loudest.

“Do not think Mr. Parker is the only one I have caught daydreaming. I know in a school of scientific geniuses, many of you consider this class as a mere requirement for graduation, but I refuse to allow any of you to go out into the world ignorant of the vast canon of literature. A well-rounded education will help create well-rounded individuals. Through literature we learn about the human condition. We step into the shoes of those who are not like us and learn compassion. As we understand their motivation, we understand them better.” Dr. Hayes sighed as his lectured appeared to once again fall on deaf ears. “We are in Act IV, scene i. If you are not already turned to that page, please do so now.” 

Peter wasn’t the only student to hurridly flip through his book and find the line Dr. Hayes had left off on. This time, Peter managed to pay attention with at least half his brain. While he didn’t add anything to the discussion, at least no one called him out again. 

For the remainder of the hour, his thoughts kept going back to the phrase that had startled him out of his thoughts. _By the pricking of my thumb_. Peter scratched at the pad of his thumb. While he didn’t sense any evil coming his way, that was as good of a metaphor as any to describe the premonition that wouldn’t let him be. 

He resisted the urge to watch the second hand slowly tick its way around the clock. Counting down the last thirty seconds of class, Peter swept his books off his desk and was at the door before the bell finished sounding. 

Pelting down the steps two at a time, Peter was the first one out of the building. He was halfway down the sidewalk when he spied Mr. Stark’s car parked in front of the school. He grinned and slowed down to a speed walk. “Yes!”

“Peter! Wait up!” Ned panted. “Why the hurry? What about practice?”

 _Ned. Practice_. Peter groaned—not at his friend, but at the reminder of his other responsibilities. He stopped and waited for Ned to catch up. 

“I’ve got to skip practice. Tell them I’m sick or something...” Peter kept his eye on the car, afraid it would leave before he arrived. 

Ned frowned. “But, we were going to hang out after practice.”

“We can reschedule—for tomorrow or sometime. I’ve got my Stark Internship today.” Peter gestured at the car. 

“But, today’s...Anyways, I thought that your internship was over....Oh!” Ned’s eyes widen. “Wait. Is this the Stark Internship, or the ‘ _Stark Internship_ ’?” The italics were practically heard in his voice. 

“The latter,” Peter muttered trying to appear chalant despite Ned’s overenthusiastic outburst. “I’ve got to go.  I’ll call you later.”

“Sure. I get it. I’ll cover for you. Good luck, Spi—” Ned stopped speaking when Peter glared at him. “Right. Secret identity.”

With a wave at his friend, Peter dashed to the car still waiting at the curb. There was only a slight wave of disappointment, when he saw Happy in the car instead of Mr. Stark. 

Happy rolled down the window and gestured Peter to get in. “Mr. Stark asked me to pick you up. He figured you’d be anxious.” 

Sliding into the backseat, Peter began peppering Happy with questions before they pulled away from the school. “What’s happening? Is something wrong? Are the Avengers involved? How did Mr. Stark know?”

“Sorry, I don’t have any details. All I know is that Tony told me to pick you up after school. And that’s what I’m doing.” 

Peter sank back into the seat and tried not to pout. He composed a rapid fire text to Mr. Stark, hoping his mentor would answer. When no response came within seconds of the initial sending, he sent another one and kept at it for at least five minutes. If the consistent beeping of texts hadn’t driven Mr. Stark to respond, he probably wouldn’t. Frustrated and stymied, Peter crossed his arms and stared out the window. Didn’t they understand? He couldn’t wait any longer. The need to know what was happening practically oozed out of his pores. 

“Hey, you want something to eat?” 

For the second time in less than an hour, Peter started. Happy had pulled up to a drive through and was running through a rather long list of food. 

When Happy reached the end of his order, Peter added, “Erm. Yeah. Sure. I’ll have a burger and fries. Oh, and a chocolate shake.” 

As they pulled around the building, Peter leaned as far forward as his seatbelt allowed him. “Happy, this isn’t the way to the Avenger’s Facility.” 

“Don’t question the driver. I know where I’m going.” Happy rolled his eyes as he paid for the food. With receipt in hand, he pulled up to the next window. “Tony’s not at the new facility, he’s at one of his labs in the city. He asked me to bring you there. Said it had to happen here. And before you start in on twenty questions again, that’s all I know.” 

Peter scratched at his thumb as he sank back into his seat. “Can you turn on the radio?”

“Sure thing.” Happy turned on the radio and began singing along to a pop song from another decade that they caught halfway through.  

The food finally arrived and at long last they were on their way. As they pulled away from the restaurant, Peter waited in silence for the news—hoping it would be more informative than Happy. It wasn’t. 

 

Peter had never been to this lab before. Actually, he hadn’t realized that Mr. Stark had any labs like this in the city. He thought everything had been relocated. If Mr. Stark had one secret lab, Peter wondered how many more the billionaire tech genius might have secreted around the city. After another round of a bazillion unanswered questions, Happy finally explained that sometimes, Mr. Stark needed someplace private to work on his new ideas. 

That made sense. 

And, Mr. Stark never did anything by halves. Every inch of the lab was filled with technology more advance than any Peter had seen outside of the Avengers headquarters. His head was practically on a swivel as he tried to take in everything as they passed through the hallways at a rapid clip. If he had access to even a fraction of this lab equipment, he could only imagine what kind of improvements he could make for his suit or web slingers. 

Happy finally stopped outside a lab at the back of the building and punched a code into the door. He held the door for Peter and followed him in. 

If the way back was impressive, it was nothing compared to the main lab. The ceiling was twice the height of the hallways and every inch was crowded with tech and gadgets. A dozen workbenches were covered with a myriad of experiments in progress. Mr. Stark stood at a bench near the back of the room. He was making notes on one of his holographic screens while tinkering with a device. It wasn’t until Peter was practically beside him that he noticed his visitor.

“About time,” Mr. Stark said without looking up from his work.  

“You told me to stay at school.” Peter winced. Whatever was happening, his spider sense was getting stronger. As the sensation grew, it became clearer that this wasn’t like any other time this had happened. “What’s going on?”

“You have a visitor.” 

“Who?” When Peter tried to take a step forward, his knees buckled. If he didn’t get answers soon, the suspense would probably literally kill him. 

With a grin, Mr. Stark gestured over at an office chair that was facing the back of the room. “You’ve been holding back on me, kid. Why didn’t you tell me about your girlfriend?” 

“Girlfriend?” Peter squawked. This was getting nowhere. He didn’t have a girlfriend.

“I told you, he’s not my boyfriend,” a familiar voice spoke from the other side of the chair. “He was my friend. My best friend...”

 _Was?_ Peter gulped. He didn’t like the use of past tense.

The chair spun around and Peter found himself face to face with a figure clad in a white hooded costume. There was a flash of pink and teal as the hood fell back and she pulled off the white mask to reveal a ghost from his past. Her blond hair was cut shorter than he remembered, but her blue eyes held the same kindness and spark of passion. The colour drained from his face and this time it wasn’t the suspense that caused his knees to buckle. It was her. There was no one else it could be. But....but...it couldn’t be. 

“Hey, are you okay?” She stood and made her way to Peter’s side. “Believe me, I know this is a lot to take in.” 

He shook his head and reached out to touch her arm. Flesh met flesh. Swallowing back the welling emotions, he forced himself to admit that this might actually be happening. “Gwen?”

 


	2. The Expectations of Multiversal Constants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony want Gwen to explain who she is and how she arrived on their Earth, while Gwen finds that the Multiversal constants aren't quite as constant as she'd like.

“Yeah, that’s me. I take it that your Gwen is dead.” Her voice was oddly calm at the mention of her death. 

Peter nodded. He was barely keeping his head above water as he tried to take this all in. With everything he’d experienced since the spider bite, was this where he drew the line on implausibility? “Are you a ghost?”

“Heh,” her lip quirked at a private joke. “No, I’m not a ghost. Are you?” 

“No.” He squeaked. 

“I know, I was kidding.” Gwen studied Peter for a moment. He got the impression that she was seeing more than him in the here and now. “All right, let’s get this over with. I’m not a ghost, or a robotic duplicate or a clone, I’m...”  
“A clone?” Peter broke in before she could finish. Incredulity infused his voice and flooded across his face. Robots? Clones? What was this, a science fiction novel? Then again...

She nodded. “You know, when they make an identical genetic copy...”

“I know what a clone is.” He picked up several small spare pieces from the workbench and began slotting them together without thinking about what he was doing.   
“Good. Because if you didn’t we’d seriously have to re-think your qualifications for the Stark Internship.” Tony broke into the conversation as though to remind them he was still there. He picked up the device he’d been working on and waved it first in front of Peter. It buzzed quietly with the steady tick of a heartbeat or a clock. When he waved it in front of Gwen, the device went berserk, the buzzing increased and it began to ping in a rapid discordant pace that only stopped when the device fzzted out and a wisp of smoke puffed from the now silent device. 

For once Peter ignored Tony. Who did this girl—this woman—think she was? She came here wearing his friend’s face and treating him like a child. 

“I don’t know who you think you are...” Peter swallowed back the lump of emotion forming in his throat, but he couldn’t keep a few tears from welling in his eyes. “If you think you can use her memory to...to do whatever you think you’re doing...I’ll stop you.” 

Gwen blinked in surprise. “Sorry Peter. I guess I forget that not every Peter is as used to this as I am. There seems to be a few Multiversal constants. Peters and Gwens tends to be one of them—though we’re rarely alive at the same time.” 

When she leaned in and gave him a hug, Peter leaned into the embrace. It’d been so long since he’d seen her and he missed his friend. Somehow he could sense that the feeling was mutual. 

Oh! That’s why his spider-sense was going off. It wasn’t warning him of a threat, it was letting him know that there was _another_ nearby. He’d never met another spider-person.

“You’re...you’re like me.” Peter broke from the embrace and held her at arm’s length. “How?”

“It’s really more common than you’d think. How do you think it happened? I got bit by a spider and you can probably figure out the broad strokes without me reciting my whole back story.” She fidgeted with a device around her wrist. “I don’t suppose you’re familiar with the Multiverse?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“You know, you’ve mentioned this Multiverse a few times since I found you,” Tony said. “And my interdimensional detector went crazy when I tried to scan you. You care to explain any of this?”

“Well, I’m pretty certain Jess has already written me off for brunch, so I guess I have the time.” She tapped the device a few more times for good measure. “It’s still not working.” 

At the mention of brunch, Tony looked up from his work and searched the room. When he noticed Happy still standing near the door with the bag of take out in hand, Tony grinned. “Ah, Happy, you got the food. Good I’m starving. Let’s eat while Gwen explains.” 

Tony moved to another workbench and began picking up pieces at random and commenting on them as he tossed them seemingly at random onto nearby shelves. “That’s where I left this...I forgot about this project, don’t need it anymore....Hmm, does this even work?....Oh, I was looking for this—last week....If I recalibrate this to work with...”

“Uh, Mr. Stark, do you need some help?” Peter asked as Tony cleared off the table. 

“No. I got this.” With a sweep of his arm, he brushed the remaining items into a box as Happy reached the table. As if on cue, Pepper entered the lab. She crossed the room with the sharp rhythmic click of heels. Tony’s face lit up at her approach. “Now everyone’s here. Let’s eat.” 

Pepper offered Gwen her hand. “I’m Pepper Potts. You’re Peter’s friend?”

“Yes, though it’s a bit complicated. I’m Gwen. Gwen Stacy.” 

“Gwen,” Pepper said the name thoughtfully like she had heard it somewhere before. “Stacy, you said?”  
The white clad hero nodded, “Yeah.”

While the two women introduced themselves, stools were gathered around the workbench, while the surface was washed and the food was laid out. In moments they were all seated around the workbench and the food was passed out.

 

“You don’t know how glad I am that this isn’t egg salad.” Gwen said as she took a bite of her burger and washed it down with a sip of soda. “Ugh, though it appears you have the same soda as Jess’ world.” 

“Who’s Jess? That’s the second time you mentioned her.” Peter asked as he dipped a fry into a puddle of ketchup. 

“No way, you’re not distracting her. I want to know more about the Multiverse.” Tony hadn’t touched his food. Instead he was eyeing the device Gwen had placed at the corner of her spot. 

“Tony—,” Pepper’s voice held a warning edge as she tried to reign in the spark that tended to cause Tony to overdo things. 

Gwen swallowed another bite, this time eschewing the soda. She glanced around the super advanced science lab. This was the part she hated about landing in a new Earth. If they hadn’t experienced the Multiverse for themselves, you always had to go back to the beginning and explain everything before they’d help. Maybe, for once, she could skip half the awkward explanations. “Can I assume that you’re at least familiar with the theory of multiple universes? You know, the idea that multiple Earths with varying levels of similarities and differences exist at the same time.”

They all nodded but remained silent as they waited for her to continue. Tony had given up all pretence of eating while Peter moved through his meal mechanically. It was like they were expecting her to give them the answer for the deep mysteries of existence or something on that level. Well, they were bound to be disappointed, she didn’t have those answers for herself. Maybe another Gwen would be better at this.

“Good. Now you can take that theory and throw away the theory part because it’s all true. The Multiverse exists. I’m from the one they call Earth-65. And I’d like to go home.” She took a bite of her burger and savoured it. “This is really good.” 

“That’s not an answer,” Peter protested. Ketchup dripped from the fry half raised to his mouth and landed on his pants. “And what does it have to do with that high tech watch thing you keep playing with?” 

“Technically, it was an answer, but I agree it wasn’t very satisfying.” Tony absently took a bite of his burger. 

Gwen groaned. “Look, it’s all very complicated and crazy. I’ve gotten used to traveling between Earths. I mean, for crying out loud, I regularly hang out with the Spiders from Earth-616. But, I can’t explain how it works. My dimensional travel watch,” she gestured at the device. “That’s what allows me to travel between dimensions. Someone else made it. When I get stuck on the wrong Earth, I have to find someone else to help fix it. And apparently, it’s gone bonkers—again.” 

Tony reached across the workbench to examine the watch. Gwen placed her hand on top of it and pulled it a little closer. This Tony Stark seemed to be an all right guy, but she didn’t know him. The Stark from her world was an arms dealer and had his own private military. After the whole S.I.L.K. debacle, she didn’t want to let just any mad genius inventor businessman get his hands on the device. Who knew what kind of trouble he’d get into if he got his hands on this technology.

He frowned, but didn’t push. “How does it work?”

“Normally, I press the button and a portal opens. You can program the watch so you end up on the earth you intend to visit without needing to dimension hop. If you don’t have it pre-set, you just land wherever you land. And that’s not usually pleasant.” She shuddered and murmured zombies under her breath. 

“Is that how you ended up here?” Pepper asked. She seemed to be accepting Gwen’s story at face value, which was better than what the others were doing. Then again, Pepper was used to dealing with Tony and his off the wall ideas.

“I don’t know.” Gwen tapped a beat on her wrist. “I mean, I was planning on meeting with Jess, but I was running late because the Koala Kommander and his army of Drop Bears decided it was the perfect day to free the zoo’s Australian animals exhibits.”

Tony gave a curt shake of his head before Peter could ask _‘What in the world are you talking about?’_

“Anyways, I’m in the middle of the fight when a portal opens and I end up here. Once I arrived, the watch wouldn’t create a new portal so I could return home.” She sighed. “Look, from what little I’ve seen of it, it seems like you have a pretty nice world here. The Inheritors haven’t found you. Spider-man is a hero and not wanted by the police. You have amazing burgers and no Bodega Bandit holding up the place. Sure, I’m dead, but that’s pretty much expected at this point. It’s probably for the best if I leave before the craziness that is my life infects your world as well. If you could tell me where I can find Reed Richards, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”  
“Who’s Reed Richards?” It was Tony’s turn to break into her explanation. 

“You know. Child genius. Can build an inter-dimensional portal out of Legos in an afternoon.” She paused and nibbled on the end of a fry as no one reacted to her explanation with anything more than confused stares. “Oh, maybe this will help. On Jess’ Earth, she said he’s an adult and a superhero. Mr. Fantastic, I think.” 

“Never heard of him,” Tony said without waiting a beat.

Gwen looked at the others in hope that one of them knew more than Tony. Their faces were all equally blank, though Pepper at least was in the process of trying to find evidence of a Reed Richard’s existence. 

After a moment she looked up from her tablet and shook her head. “Sorry. He doesn’t seem to exist in our world.” 

Gwen slumped and sighed heavily. “Okay, then I need to find another scientific genius with the penchant for creating the improbable.” 

Tony gestured at the sci-fi inspired lab. “And what am I?”

“Well....” So far nothing crazy had happened on this Earth, but she had a feeling that she didn’t have much time left before something bad happened. Chalk it up to her spider-sense.  Turning to Peter, she studied him. She didn’t really have the time to find another genius to help and if she was going to trust any of the people present, it would be him. He might not be her Peter, but he was _a_ Peter. “Do you trust him?”

The young Spider-Man paled. Apparently the thought of not trusting Tony Stark had never crossed his mind. “Mr. Stark? Of course I trust him. He’s Iron Man.”

“Okay. I trust you, so I guess I’ll trust him.” She passed the watch across the table to Tony. “Please tell me you can fix it.”  
“I’ll need a few minutes...” He abandoned his lunch and returned to the workbench where he had previously worked on his interdimensional scanner. 

“He’ll be at that until he figures it out and we won’t get much conversation out of him.” Pepper sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who was used to that kind of behaviour and knew that there was nothing she could do to change it. The sigh was similar to the ones MJ gave her whenever she was late to practice or a gig. “Gwen, Peter, would you like a tour of the labs?” Pepper stood in a graceful sweep of motion and gathered her belongings.   
“Yes.” Peter hopped off his stool and was halfway to the door before turning back to Gwen. “Um, do you...?”

“Sure,” Gwen shrugged and grabbed another burger from the stack before following the others.

Pepper pointed out interesting features and prototype technology as she led Gwen and Peter down the hall. Peter nodded along, taking in every bit of the tech, while Gwen listened half-heartedly and tapped a beat against her thigh with her fingers as they walked. She bumped her shoulder against Peter’s trying to get him to smile or react or anything. Instead he froze.

Peter couldn’t meet her eyes. At the same time he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. Bother. She didn’t normally do this. Didn’t normally want to know. She’d already learned more about her various deaths than she ever wanted to know. But, it seemed like this Peter needed to talk. All right, maybe that was why she ended up here. After all, Jess and Peter Porker didn’t rag on her about her speeches for nothing. “Hey Peter, if you want to talk about how I die—.”

She stopped midsentence and doubled over in pain. Her heart raced so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. In a sensation she could only describe as pixilation, she felt like she was being torn into a million shapes and sounds and sensations before being put back together, only for it to happen again and again. She lost track of the number of times this happened over the span of seconds the stretched into eons. The myriad of worlds in the Multiverse flashed across her mind’s eye in a cacophony of sights and sound, merged and torn apart. She recognised many of the worlds, while there were still others she had not yet visited. Amid the chaos, familiar images flickered through her consciousness—her father, MJ and the rest of the band, Aunt May and Uncle Ben. That was her home. Every time she tried to grasp onto the images as an anchor to pull her home, they slipped through her fingers. The more she tried, the farther they drifted away on the tide of this surreal nightmare. Still, her soul—her consciousness—was being drawn home while her body refused to leave the dimension she was currently in. After what felt like an eternity the sensations ceased. 

Dropping to her knees, Gwen panted, inhaling great lungfuls of air. If whatever happened to her insides happened to her outsides, that would explain the freaked out expressions plastered across Pepper’s and Peter’s flabbergasted faces. 

Wow. She shook her head and groaned. If she ever found the metaphorical truck that hit her, she’d return the favour.

“Don’t die, don’t die.” Peter repeated like a mantra that could save her this time. He knelt at her side and held her. His hands were cool against her heated skin. 

She managed a weak smile, hoping to reassure him. “Well, that was different....”


	3. Theories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has theories.  
> Gwen doesn't have a head injury.  
> And Peter doesn't know how to react to a new version of an old friend.

A steady beep rang in Gwen's ears as she woke on an unfamiliar bed. No, that wasn't right. The ringing wasn't in her ears; it was coming from somewhere in the room. When she finally opened her eyes, there was no mistaking that she was in some sort of medical facility. Probably not a hospital, since it lacked that overwhelming distinctive scent of medicine and disinfectant. In a desire not to ask clichéd questions, she wanted to figure out where she was before she resorted to asking the unseen other occupants in the room  ‘ _where am I?’_ and filling the expectations for the role of concussed victim number one. 

Despite the killer headache, she didn't remember hitting her head. Still, it wouldn't hurt to be certain. Her gaze flickered to the corners of the room, then to the bank of steadily beeping machines beside the bed for any signs of Spider-Ham. Good, no hallucinatory visitations from her porcine mentor (friend? Jiminy Cricket?—to be honest he was probably a bit of all three). Anyways, no Spider-Ham meant she was most likely head injury free.

"Mr. Stark, you asked me to inform you when Miss Stacy awoke." When the disembodied female voice spoke, it seemed to come everywhere and nowhere at once. 

"And?" Tony prompted the unseen voice. Though she couldn't see him from where she was lying, by the acoustics in the room she could tell his voice was definitely embodied. 

"Miss Stacy is awake. "

"Thank you Friday." Tony's voice came closer along with the rest of him. 

Gwen tugged at the wires attached to the sensors stuck to her arms, chest, and temples. As the sensors pulled away from her skin leaving behind a trace of adhesive, the machines began an erratic cacophony of high pitched tones and discordant alarms that alerted everyone in the vicinity that it's patient (test subject?) no longer had any vital signs. 

"Where’s Peter?" The world swam around her as Gwen sat up. Waking up alone in one of Tony Stark's labs was definitely not one of her top ten places to wake up. Despite putting her trust in Peter, she still felt slightly wary when it came to trusting Tony Stark. She really didn't want to become a lab rat for his scientific curiosity—even if it came from the best of intentions. 

"Right here," Peter hurried over to her side. He needed to nearly shout to be heard over the noise. Though he was no longer panicking, worry lingered in every line and contour of his face. 

Shoot, he was too young to worry about losing his friend—again. She hadn't asked, but if she were to hazard a guess, she'd say this Peter was about three or four years younger than her. So that made him about the same age as she was when she'd developed her spider abilities. Even with how everything turned out in her world, she could still remember those early days when there was a certain innocence and excitement about heroing. 

Forcing a reassuring smile, Gwen relaxed the taut muscles in her back and shoulders. She could still be on alert without appearing on alert. Peter didn't need her concerns adding to his own. Besides, the dizziness was gone and the headache was reduced to a dull throbbing at the base of her skull. Her stomach was another matter entirely. She'd need another minute or two before standing, unless she wanted to revisit those burgers in a rather unpleasant fashion. 

"How long was I out?" she asked, getting straight to business. Idly, she scratched at the inside of her elbow. A bandage covered a piece of folded gauze. They'd drawn blood. It would worry her, except there hadn't been an IV among the wires she'd pulled away. There were probably doing blood work to find out what was wrong with her.

"About thirty minutes." Peter handed her a bottle of water. "Do you know what happened? I mean, one minute we were talking...and then it was like you were being torn apart piece by piece. I...I tried to touch you and my hand went right through your arm."

Gwen swallowed the water, her throat was drier than she thought possible. "I'm not sure. It was like my essence was being drawn home while by body was anchored here. At the same time every universe in the Multiverse was trying to claim me at the exact same moment.”

"Is that normal for dimensional travel?" Tony asked as he circled around the bed, silencing the machines on his way. Though he faced her, she had the distinct impression that he wasn't looking at her. Instead he was focused on the influx of data. 

"No," She shook her head. The world remained exactly where it should be and her stomach barely noted the movement.

Tony nodded abstractly. "That's what I thought."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked before she could. He perched on the bed beside her. 

"In the time I had to examine the dimensional travel watch before Gwen collapsed, I was able to determine that it hadn't been used recently." Tony reached for Gwen's wrist and began taking her pulse. "Gwen's description of what happened to her, and Peter’s observations, lend proof to my hypothesis that some factor other than Gwen herself brought her to our Earth. And now it seems, that the Multiverse is rejecting her presence here."

She could see the scientific gears in Peter's brain whirring while he continued to eye her like she was made of glass. She might be a lot of things, but she was no damsel that would break at the slightest interdimensional mishap. 

Turning her attention to Tony, she schooled her features to hide the lingering aches and pains from being apparently ripped apart by the Multiverse. "By rejecting me, do you mean like a body might reject an organ transplant if it's not a proper match?"

"Exactly." Tony grinned. "Your watch or a proper portal are what allows you to synchronize with whichever Earth you travel to. Without that protection, the Multiverse rejects you."

"So, if she didn't get here by portal, then how’d she get here?" Peter asked.

"That’s not what I said. I said a proper portal.” Tony began pulling up complicated equations and diagrams on one of his holographic screens as if that would explain everything. “I hypothesize—and mind you, this is still only conjecture—someone has created an interdimensional portal and it’s faulty. Instead of creating a portal between two 'Earths' it's bleeding through the entire Multiverse and grabbing people at random and dumping them into other earths, ones where they don't belong. Or, at least that’s what happened to Gwen. I have no way of knowing if this has happened on other Earths or not. Because there's nothing to serve as the anti-rejection drugs, for lack of a better term, Gwen and probably any other traveler will continue to be pulled apart as the Multiverse attempts to bring things back into balance."

"So that weird glitch thing will probably keep happening until I’m sent home?" Gwen rolled the bottle between her hands. The more than half empty bottle crinkled loudly. 

"Or, until you're torn and scattered across the Multiverse." Tony said as if he hadn't predicted another death for Gwen Stacy. 

Gwen nodded, ignoring the stricken Peter. "All right this isn't the first time my existence has been on a deadline. Tony, I'm depending on you to find me a way home before that happens. In the meantime I'm not going to wait around here for my time to run out." She turned to Peter and met his gaze before he could avert it. "Let's take in the city. You can show me around town before my time runs out."

 

“You can't go out like that." Peter said so suddenly that everyone turned to look at him. 

"Like what?" Gwen raised a quizzical eyebrow that Peter could see because her hood was pushed back and she had rolled up her mask and wore it like a stocking cap. 

"I mean, you can't go out as—," he gestured helplessly at her, "as Gwen."

"What's wrong with being Gwen?"

"Nothing. It's just...your dad...I mean, her dad... You know what I mean...he’s out there... What if he sees you alive and all grown up? He’s hasn’t gotten over your death. It'd probably kill him. And the others, our...her...friends..."

Gwen's expression softened at the mention of her dad. "It's not like I planned to be here and brought my bag with me. It's still webbed to the top of a light pole." She plucked at her rolled up mask. "We can go out as Spider-Woman and Spider-Man. If we keep a low profile, no one will even realize I'm here."

Peter bit the inside of his cheek as he considered the idea. "But, I don't have my suit.”

"In the closet, kid." Mr. Stark gestured down the hall. A panel slid open from the formerly seamless wall. The hidden closet contained a Spider-suit similar to the one Mr. Stark had first given him. “Go ahead. You deserve it."

"But..."

"This time don't hack the protocols and, after we get your friend home, I'll give you access to the Lab. You can create a suit to your specifications." 

"Really?" Peter’s eyes were as big as saucers. He was already making plans with what he could do with access to this lab. He was dying at the chance to get his hands on this tech. 

"Really. Now get out of here so I can concentrate on saving your girlfriend’s life. If that Reed Richards kid can make an interdimensional portal in an afternoon surely I can make one in less time than that. I have better toys. Now scoot." Tony turned his back on them as he began talking to his AI assistant. 

"Um," Peter edged towards the closet with his suit. "I'm going to go change. Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes. "I can manage a few minutes on my own. Really. In my world I live on my own and have my own apartment. Okay, so I share the apartment with the other girls in the band and the cat. I'll be fine, promise. Now, go."

Peter collected the suit and found his way back to the bathroom Pepper had pointed out before Gwen had collapsed. Before changing he studied his reflection in the mirror and wondered what the others saw when they looked at him. He could scarcely believe it was only a couple of hours ago he was sitting in English class wondering when the day would end. Now, he was getting ready to head out on the town with the not-ghost of his dead friend. No matter how he tried, he couldn't quite wrap his head around all of this. When had his life gotten so surreal?

This Gwen was so strange. Not only was she older than him, she also treated the whole Multiverse thing like it was comparable to taking the subway across New York. She hadn't even blinked when she learned she was dead. It was like she had expected it. How had she become so callous? He was trying very hard to forget that she’d referred to him in the past tense. She had made the offer to talk to him about it, before the whole attack of the Multiverse on her presence here. At that point, all he could see was losing another Gwen. Which, shouldn’t matter. Should it?

Every so often he'd forget she wasn't his Gwen and then she'd say something that Gwen wouldn't know or do something in a way Gwen wouldn't. Then, he was left with a harsh reminder that Gwen was dead and this one wasn't his. How did one pal around with a ghost? 

He sighed. If he didn’t hurry and get ready soon, they would probably start thinking something had happened to him too. Once again dressed in the Mr. Stark designed suit, Peter adjusted the settings so it became form fitting. Donning the suit again felt good, but it paled in comparison to the promise of making his own suit. 

A weak knock on the door reminded him that now wasn't the proper time to start designing a new suit. He was suppose to be playing host.  

"Peter..." It was Gwen. Her voice was strained and weak. 

He opened the door so quickly it was only do to his spider-senses that he was able to catch her before she keeled over. "Gwen?"

 "I think it happened again." She disentangled herself from his arms. 

Though she was standing tall, she had that pinched look around her eyes that Aunt May got whenever she was fighting a headache. At least Gwen didn't pass out this time. 

Peter wanted to ask her if she was certain about going out. But the determined set of her jaw reminded him of his Gwen. It was always useless to fight with her when she wore that expression. She hated when people tried to tell her she couldn't do something. Maybe this Gwen was right, some things were the same across the Multiverse. That gave him an idea. 

"In your world, do you have a Fritz’s Ice Cream Shoppe?"

"There was. It closed down a couple years ago. They had the best banana splits." Even with the words laced with nostalgia, she was beginning to sound more like herself again. Either the recovery time was getting shorter or she was adjusting to the effects of these attacks. Possibly both. Probably. 

Peter licked his dry lips and tried to find a way to speak past the lump in his throat. He couldn't back down now. It'd been years since he had last bought ice cream Fritz’s. He hadn’t been back since Gwen had died. That summer he, Gwen, and Ned had visited the shoppe nearly everyday. They'd always gotten the same thing—a banana split that they had shared three ways. "The one here still exists. Do you want to go?" 

"I'd love to." Her smile was the same as his Gwen's. For a brief moment it was like having _her_ back again, then she rolled down her mask and she was once more a stranger. 

 


	4. Unravelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Gwen attempt to have a conversation before they are distracted.

At this point, Peter had enough practice with his webs that swinging to the top of the office complex with one hand was only a minimal inconvenience. With the hand not operating the webslinger he balanced the promised banana split. The splits used to look bigger when he was twelve. 

Gwen was right where he had left her—perched on the top of the building. She sat with her feet dangling over the side of the roof, heels thrumming rhythmically against the brick. With her mask on, he could almost pretend she was someone else—Spider-Woman—with no connection to his childhood friend. He wasn’t certain that made any of this easier to comprehend. She trusted him, but he wasn’t certain the reverse was true. He wanted to trust her, but...

“Hey, want a hand?” Gwen reached out to either give him a hand up over the ledge of the roof or take the ice cream so he could use both his hands. He wasn’t sure which. 

He shook his head. “No, I got it.” 

But, he’d spoken too soon. Peter almost lost his balance as he released the web so he could scramble over the edge of the roof. Carrying ice cream while climbing up the vertical side of a building wasn’t as easy as managing the climb with a churro. 

“Whoa,” he gasped. It was all he could manage not to uselessly flail his arms in an attempt to regain his balance. 

A web, similar to his own but not quite the same consistency—loose threads knotted and spiralled from the multi-corded line—caught him before he fell. 

“I got you,” Gwen said. Even though her face was completely covered, he could sense the subtle shifts of her facial muscles under her mask. He was willing to bet that if he could see her face, her eyes would be wide and her lips pulled in a tight line in the momentary panic that flickered across her face until she was certain he was safe. 

Regaining not only his balance, but composure as well, Peter braced his feet against the vertical side of the building and walked up and over the side. Now that he thought about it, he probably should have climbed the wall this way from the beginning.

Settling beside Gwen, he placed the banana split between them. Peter smiled shakily behind his mask. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” She peeled her mask up, only revealing her nose and mouth. From the way she clenched her jaw, he was certain she was trying very hard to not say something. 

“What’s wrong?” He peeled his mask up in a match of hers. You couldn’t eat with it all the way on. As he handed her a spoon, he dug into the ice cream with one of his own. After that trip, he deserved a treat.

“Gravity,” she muttered under her breath. Before he could ask what she meant, Gwen continued in a normal voice. “You already seem rather freaked out at my presence here and I don’t want to add to that.”

Peter nodded. He stumbled over his words as he tried to express the mess of feelings. “It’s just weird, you know. I mourned you and now you’re here again. Every time I look at you, I don’t know how to feel. My brain says this isn’t possible, that it can’t really be you. It says I shouldn’t trust the imposter. But my heart recognises my friend in you and wants to restore what we lost. My heart wants to implicitly trust you. And...I seriously don’t know how to deal with any of this. Does any of this make sense?” 

“Yeah, it does. I know the feeling.” Gwen squeezed his hand. “Wish I could say it gets easier.”

Peter slumped against her, feeling a comfort in her familiar presence whether he wanted to or not. “How can you take all of this in stride?” 

“When I was introduced to the Multiverse, it was a whole life or death kind of situation. I had to adapt fast or I wouldn’t have made it through. We lost a lot of good spiders back then.” Gwen’s shoulders slumped like she was carrying the weight of the entire Multiverse on them. To buy herself a moment, she broke contact and dug her spoon into the ice cream. “I made some good friends and I met a few Peters along the way. Peters are the most prevalent of the spider-people, but there are others too.”

“Like who?” He couldn’t help but be curious. As an orphaned only child, he never had a big family. After the loss of his parents and Uncle Ben, the Parkers had been whittled down to him and Aunt May. While he loved his aunt, there were times he had longed for siblings or cousins or something. With Gwen’s arrival and knowledge of a whole clan of spider-people, it was like suddenly being introduced to family he didn’t know had. 

Gwen ticked off the names on her fingers. “Well, there’s Jess—Spider-Woman—not to be confused with the other Jessica—she’s the Black Widow on her world. And there’s Cindy—Silk. There’s a few Bens. There’s Annie and May, but if my presence freaks you out, you’re probably not ready to meet them. And of course there’s all the Spider-men, mostly Peters, but there’s also Miles....” 

The visible portion of her face flushed slightly at the mention of Miles. Peter wondered who Miles was and what was the story behind the blush. 

“Anyways, there are quite a few of us. There’re a few who’ve developed their spider powers in ways other than being bitten by a radioactive spider—like Jess and Anya. And some are clones—usually of Peters. Some of the spiders inherited their powers from you—not, you you, of course, but the Peter of their Earth.” Gwen inhaled deeply after spilling out the list in practically one breath. “After your Tony has figured out what’s wrong with my dimensional watch, we could probably find a way for you to meet the others. That is, if you want.”

“I’ll think about it.” He fidgeted with the settings on his webslinger. 

Gwen placed her hand over his, stilling his anxious fingers. “Believe it or not, I kind of know how you feel. It’s always the Peters that hit me the hardest.”

“Because your Peter died?” Peter’s stomach clenched and he wanted to be anywhere else but here, with her. He was too young to think of his own mortality. Especially after already escaping death once.

“Yeah. As I mentioned earlier, in most versions of the Multiverse, there’s usually a Peter or a Gwen. You rarely find both of us at the same time. Especially if one of us is a spider. When dimension hopping, it doesn’t take long to realise that there are fewer Gwens out there than Peters.” Gwen stared out into the city, her unseen gaze lingering in the direction of the East River. 

Peter stabbed at the banana with his plastic spoon—half mangling the tender fruit in the process. “I used to come here with Gwen and Ned. We’d split a split.” 

“What happened?” Gwen asked gently, cutting through to the core of the matter that hung between them. 

She ignored the melting ice cream. Obviously she wasn’t much hungrier than he was. This time, she didn’t sound quite so cavalier at the implications of her death. Though, he thought he might finally understand why she tried to pass it off as a matter of course. If he wasn’t eager to hear the details of his death, why should she be? And for him, it was the first time. He wondered how many times she’d heard versions of her own demise. If the number of earths was nigh on infinite and there were more Peters than Gwens...then she had probably confronted more versions of her death than any mortal ought.

What he understood for certain was that she was offering him a chance to talk. To come to terms with the whole situation with probably the only person who’d understand what he was going through. All right. If she could do this, so could he. 

“There was an accident,” he said flatly. Peter stared into the middle distance, not really focusing on anything, He couldn’t look at Gwen while he talked. She was older than he was—an age that his Gwen would never reach. A reminder of what could never be. 

“Did it involve a fall?” she asked when the silence lapsed beyond a comfortable pause.

“What? No,” Peter spluttered. Forgotten ice cream dripped off his spoon and fell to the ground. 

“Good.” She scooped a large bite of the half-melted ice cream. 

“Why’s that good?” There was nothing good about any of this. 

She swallowed too quickly. Her cheeks tensed as she winced at the too large, too cold bite. “Gwens and bridges tend to have a bad history.”

Peter followed her gaze. If he recalled the layout of the city correctly, she was staring in the direction of the George Washington Bridge. The ice cream sat in his stomach like a leaden weight. With the sunned wave of vertigo, he scooted away from the edge of the roof. Pieces of an untold story fell into place. There were too may coincidences, too many similarities. With his back turned to Gwen, he pulled his mask back over his chin to hide the rapidly falling pallor. 

He needed to get away. To think. To breathe. Surely someone in the city was in need of their friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. But...what about Gwen? If he didn’t feel responsible for her, he’d probably just leave her here to find her own way back to Mr. Stark. 

No. That wasn’t fair...

Gwen moved beside him. Her footsteps were light and only heard because she hadn’t wanted to startle him. Almost tentatively, she reached out to touch his shoulder. 

Before he could jerk away from her touch, or curl into it, the distraction he’d been looking for echoed up from the street below. Under the general din of a street level crowd, he could pick out the traces of running footsteps, a stumbling scuffle, and a mocking voice. 

“Mitchell, get back here....gonna be harder on ya....” Even at this distance, Peter recognised that tone—snide and cruel. A bully preying on those he thought weaker.

“Gwen...” Peter turned to his compatriot, but she was already at the edge of the roof, contemplating the swing.

 

***

 

Gwen spotted the exact moment Peter sensed the scuffle below. The same moment she had. His shoulders tensed and his head jerked ever so slightly in the direction of the confrontation. Almost immediately his wrist twitched in the same direction, though he was too far from the edge to make proper use of his webslinger. She wondered if her tells were just as obvious, or if it was only something she could suss out because they were both spiders. Either way, it wasn’t the time to contemplate such matters. She returned to the edge of the roof, tracking the confrontation as it crossed the street by the rhythm of chasing feet. One set was heavy and sure while the other skittered lightly and hurriedly along the loose debris. 

“Leave me alone,” a second voice wavered in a panicked squeal that confirmed that whatever the first voice wanted, it wasn’t a friendly chat. 

_That has to be Mitchell,_ Gwen thought. His bravado failed to cover the tremor in his voice. 

She narrowed in on Mitchell and the bully as the latter cornered the former into a blind alley. 

“Trouble,” she muttered. 

“Gwen....” Peter rested a hand on her shoulder, stopping her in place. “Maybe you should stay here.” 

“Why?” Gwen snapped in a tone the caused Peter to step back. She didn’t mean to be so harsh, but they didn’t have time for this. Mitchell certainly didn’t have time for them to dicker over who should do what.

“Um...well...What I’m trying to say...it’s just....You don’t need to worry about this. I can handle it. This isn’t your world.” His fingers rested gently over the space where she usually wore her dimensional-travel watch. “What if you glitch?”

She shrugged. “Then I glitch. I’m not going to let some kid get beat up when I’m here and able to help.” 

“Fine,” he said with a begrudging respect. “But, maybe try not to be spotted. I don’t know how I’d explain another spider-person in town.” 

“Fair enough. Let’s go.” Gwen backed away from the edge of the roof until she was the proper distance to make the running leap off the building and over the street with the aid of her webs. 

The moment before she leapt from the building, she shot her web across the street. The line hit its mark along the roof edge of the building opposite them. With her line anchored, she began the swing across the street with well-practiced ease. 

In the seconds it took to be mid-leap between one building and the next, another line shot past her. Peter’s web was quick, sleek and highly elastic. Gwen grimaced. His lack of experience working with other spiders was painfully obvious. He’d chosen an anchor point too close to hers. If one of them didn’t redirect, their lines would tangle and twist and both spiders would end up crashing into the side of the building. And Peter hadn’t realised the oncoming collision yet. 

“Spider-man! Too close,” she called to her companion as the increasing slack in the lines caused the sticky webs to drift towards each other. 

Peter turned towards her, distracted by her warning. “Wha—?”

“Never mind. I’ve got it. Focus on where you’re going.” Gwen barked out orders that he followed on instinct. Good. Despite his misgivings, he trusted her, at least in this matter. 

Gwen surveyed the scene and found a good half dozen anchor points that the other web-slinger could have used and at least a couple of them had at a better angle for him. She’d chosen her route because it would have allowed her to remain mostly out of sight.

Well, this wasn’t his fault. He never had the opportunity to work with other spiders, so he didn’t know the kind of sticky situations a crossed line could land you in if you weren’t prepared. Besides, his mentor was Tony Stark. What did Iron Man know about webslinging? 

She sighed. Knowing the Tonys that she did, if the mood struck him, he probably knew more about web-slinging than any other non-spider-person. If Tony’s attention held, Peter was probably in good hands. This Tony seemed to genuinely care about his protégé. Anyways, if she didn’t want to crash into the side of the building, she really ought to take her own advice and pay attention. 

With a flick of her other wrist, she sent out a new webline while she broke contact with the first, allowing it to fall by the wayside. The new web would drop her in the middle of the action, but at least it wouldn’t end in a ker-splat. 

She used her webs to slow her dissent until she was in position above the fight. In the split second it took to shift from swinging to preparing to drop in on the scene below, she took in the principal players—Mitchell and the bully that had chased him into the blind alley. 

Mitchell pressed against a weathered pallet that was propped against the back of alley where it dead-ended leaving the teen no escape. Rusty nails dug into his overstuffed backpack, mere inches from his scuffed elbow. The knees of his jeans were torn and damp from when he fell during the chase. Though he panted and his gaze darted around the alley in search of an escape, he held his hands up in an open defensive position that could easily switch to offensive if need be. Possibly trained, but not enough to feel confident in taking on the bigger more vicious boy. 

The bully was everything his footsteps had promised. Big, not only in height but bulk as well, he moved in the sure and steady way of someone used to lording his size over others. From the venom spewing from the bully’s mouth, Mitchell had obviously defied him and now, the smaller teen must pay.

_Gah, they were all so young_ , Gwen thought. If she were to hazard a guess, she’d say they were about Peter’s age. Why was everything in this world trying to make her feel old? 

There was no time to consider the question as the narrow sliver of setting sun reflected off the sharp edge of a knife. 

Without any more hesitation, Gwen dropped. Dried leaves crunched beneath her feet as she landed in a crouch between Mitchell and the bully. 

The alley was too narrow to stage any kind of proper fight. Rubbish bins and piles of leaves in the process of turning into mulch littered the narrow space creating an obstacle course for criminal and crime fighter alike. If she wanted to end this quickly, she would need to find an unconventional solution. Good thing she was creative. 

She caught the shift in shadows as Peter lurked above, waiting for his moment to enter. With a barely perceptible nod of her head, Gwen let him know that she understood what he was doing.

“Hey,” Gwen called, making certain that all eyes were on her. Her entrance had been unexpected and dramatic enough that it had caused the amateur to freeze in place long enough for Gwen to slide into a ready position. 

Knife-Boy hesitated, uncertain what to do when faced with someone who wasn’t afraid of him. He gripped the knife tighter, his knuckles whitening. Not that she was rooting for the bad guys, but this kid wouldn’t last long in any kind of criminal enterprise. Not only had he called out his intentions loud enough for the local superhero to follow him, his prints would be all over everything.

Taking advantage of the momentary hesitation, Gwen made a one time offer. “Why don’t we all step back for a moment so you can re-think your life choices.” 

Instead of taking Gwen up on her offer, not even waiting for her to finish, Knife-Boy charged her. He was obviously used to the presence of his knife doing all the work for him. His charge was sloppy and Gwen couldn’t even start to count the number of openings he left her. The boy needed to be taught a lesson.

“Nope, we can’t be having any of that.” In a leap up and a kick against the wall, she somersaulted out of the way. Mitchell gasped behind her and Knife-Boy whirled in place to once again face her. With the flick of her wrist, she caught his knife wielding hand in a knot of webs. 

The force of the sudden cocooning of his hand knocked him back a few steps so he stumbled over an orphaned shoe and into a puddle. Instinctually he reached for the wall to steady himself. Only to find his hand adhered to the side of the building. 

“What the—!” the bully swore. He tugged at his arm until she could nearly hear the joints popping. With his free hand, he tore at the binding, only to get that hand stuck as well.

“Language,” Peter chided as he landed beside her. He secured Knife-Boy’s hands in place with another layer of webbing. 

“There’s two Spider-men?” Knife-Boy squeaked. Funny how he sounded like the child he was when frightened.

“Heh. You almost got it right. But, I’m Spider-woman, thank you very much.” Gwen tried not to grin behind her mask. It was too easy to get used to this—working together.

“That was a dramatic entrance.” Gwen heard the question behind Peter’s words that was meant only for her. _Weren’t you trying to keep a low profile?_  

Gwen shrugged. “Sometimes you can’t deny the flair. Besides, knife _boy_ here wasn’t going to wait.” 

“Fair enough,” Peter agreed. 

“What’s happening?” Knife-Boy asked, breaking into their conversation. Though at this point the moniker seemed increasingly inaccurate since the knife was pinioned to the wall along with his hand. In fact, from the way his fingers scritched at the webbing, it appeared that he had lost his hold on the knife entirely. But, since she still didn’t know his name, he’d remain Knife-Boy. 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Well, you made some really bad life choices and ended up webbed to a wall. I thought that was obvious.” 

“You could say, you’ve found yourself in a bit of a sticky situation,” Peter deadpanned. 

Gwen wasn’t certain if she wanted to groan or smile, so she did both.

“You’re grinning, aren’t you?” Peter’s own unseen grin was evident in his tone. 

“And you’re cracking bad jokes, so we’re even.” Gwen turned back towards the bully as he continued to struggle with the webbing. “Save your strength. That’s not going to work.”

Knife-Boy braced a foot against the wall and was trying to use the leverage to break the web’s hold. Panting from the failed effort and seething with a returned fury, the restrained bully hissed at the crime fighters. “Flirt later and get me down now or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Gwen responded with an icy snarl that shut down the threat before he could finish uttering it. She wasn’t in the mood for this anymore. If this punk kid thought his threats held any challenge, he was kidding himself. She had faced the Kingpin, ol’Murdock himself, and in the end she had come out on top. Knife-Boy could hang here until the cops found him.

“If you’ve got everything covered here, I’ll go....” Peter’s voice was oddly flat as her turned from the scene and gave a perfunctory wave towards Mitchell who still cowered at the back of the alley. “...I should help....”

“Yeah, I’ve got this.” Gwen frowned. She didn’t like the tone in Peter’s voice. “You good?”

The tensioned slightly eased in Peter’s shoulders. “I will be. We’ll finish our conversation later.” 

Gwen nodded, understanding the implications. Of course, the bully’s unintentional jibe would hit. Peter was already unburying old wounds today and the thought of flirting with an older version of his long dead friend was probably a step beyond what he could handle at the moment. Even if he never felt that way towards his Gwen, it was bound to add to what he was already dealing with. 

A moment later, the woosh of a webline followed by a strangled cry was all she needed to know that Peter had escorted Mitchell out of the alley via the rooftops.

Knife-Boy smirked. While he might not know how he’d wounded, he had the perspicacity of a bully to recognise when a jibe had hit the mark. The smirk transformed into a leer. “Boyfriend problems?”

She ignored the taunt. “Here’s what’s going to happen, you’re going to hang out here for a bit and rethink your decisions...”

In an effort to make her point, she moved in on him so they met face to face. But, she had stepped in too close and that fact occurred to him a moment before it registered with her. Knife-Boy lashed out, kicking her in the gut.

_Rookie move_ , she thought as the breath was knocked out of her. She stumbled back several steps and crashed to her knees against the cracked cement. 

The world shattered. 

For a flickering moment she registered the web-bound boy’s wide eye terror and soundless scream. Before she could question its cause, she was lost in a bombardment of images and sounds, the foreign and familiar. The chaos of the Multiverse unbound.

A moment—an eternity—later, a warm hand phased through her shoulder and squeezed her unsubstantial form like part of her was still present in some reality. She gripped the hand and returned the pressure, borrowing its solidness to find her own.

Nearby a familiar voice, fierce and loyal, pulled at her. “Gwen....Gwen Stacy....Gwen, please, stay with me.”

 


End file.
